Prescription
by Ash Dogen
Summary: After suffering a minor injury on Drongar, Han Solo is forced to pay a visit to the medcentre and gets to know the base's Alderaan-born medical officer, who sheds some light on the past of a particularly perplexing princess. Set very early in the post-ANH timeline and features Han, an original character and quite a lot of talk about Leia.


_I've found this one-shot to be the easiest and most enjoyable thing to write so far. It features a character I've come up with in the hope that her presence will facilitate delving a bit deeper into what Leia's youth might have been like at a point in the saga, very early in her friendship with Han and the others, where she probably wasn't willing or ready to talk about it herself._

 _I'm tempted to write about the argument between Han and Leia I mention here at some point, possibly as a challenge to myself to write something a bit shorter and more succinct than what I've done so far._

* * *

It had been a long time since Han Solo had found himself in a medcentre.

Being that he lived something of a nomadic life, he'd mastered the art of making do when it came to getting hurt; so long as it didn't involve complete incapacitation or the loss of a limb then he figured it was nothing that he couldn't handle himself. Cuts, bruises and burns were standards of life spent predominantly on a freighter, particularly a temperamental one that needed regular maintenance and Han just happened to be the proud owner of what he thought had to be one of the most temperamental ships in the galaxy.

But then there were the other injuries he'd suffered over the years, the ones that left scars and had been severe enough that he probably should have sought out some expert medical care.

There was the one on his right shoulder, the result of a confrontation with a very angry, vibroblade-wielding Weequay he'd had the misfortune of encountering just after his expulsion from Carida; the one that spanned the area just below his left armpit and descended down to his ribs, a souvenir of a forced foray into swoop racing on Malastare that ended in a crash he'd been very lucky to have walked away from in one piece; the blaster wound on his right thigh, inflicted by a vengeful Twi'lek on Taris who'd been adamant that Han's lucky streak in a sabaac tournament couldn't possibly have been down to pure skill and daring at the card table.

He liked to say that that particular scar was proof that being honest would get you nowhere in an inherently dishonest galaxy; Chewie argued that it was proof that a bad reputation really does precede you and Han couldn't argue that he had developed a reputation as a bit of a swindler when it came to cards.

But he hadn't cheated in that game, just been fortunate enough to meet a few idiots with more money than talent when it came to sabaac. And Han had greatly enjoyed eventually spending that money once he'd won it, even if he' had to do so with a slight limp.

Then there was the scar on his chin, the one that he'd been asked about so often over the years that sometimes he forgot how he'd gotten it; at some point, bored with being asked about it over and over again, he'd taken to making up stories to explain it that had mostly been ludicrous in their plausibility but his reputation was such that they were apparently nonetheless believable in some way.

With the benefit of hindsight, he could admit that he probably should have dragged himself to a medcentre after each of those incidents.

But Han preferred to avoid them. They made him uneasy and he would always choose to steer clear of one whenever he could manage it.

And his luck over the years had been good enough that he'd been able to so for the most part.

The last time he'd found himself at a medcentre, it hadn't been of his volition. It had been around three years ago and he'd been on Metellos, helping to load the _Falcon's_ freight elevator with whatever he and Chewie had been smuggling at the time. Having misjudged the weight of something, he'd dropped it without completely letting it go and his right shoulder had been consequently wrenched out of its socket. Having not suffered that sort of dislocation before, Han had thought nothing of asking Chewie to pop it back into place; the subsequent pain had been so bad that Han had passed out, hitting his head on a metal shipping case on his way down.

In a panic, Chewie had gotten him to the nearest medcentre where he'd been diagnosed with a mild concussion and advised that in future he should leave any heavy lifting to the Wookie, who Han had made vow never to omit the whole passing out episode from any future retellings of that particular story.

His latest injury, the one that had landed him here in the white-walled medcentre of the Rebel Alliance's newest base on Drongar, had not been caused by his own fault. He'd been changing a damaged compacitor on the _Falcon,_ repairing the last of the damage caused in the escape from that cursed battle station. The kid had been chattering away over his shoulder, had followed him around all morning like an overexcited pittin, going on and on about his big plans for the new fighter squadron that the Alliance higher-ups had put him in charge of. Distracted, Han had caught his hand on a jagged edge of something and torn the skin.

Luke had looked like he might throw up at the sight of the blood but he'd thankfully managed to get a hold of himself. Han had waved off the kid's nagging that he go get the cut seen to by an Alliance doctor but then Rieekan had gotten involved, insisting that Han pay a visit to the medcentre that was still currently being set up.

So, somewhat against his will, Han was now perched on the edge of a bunk waiting for a doctor to make an appearance.

He was alone. The Rebels were still in the process of outfitting this new base so a lot of the medical equipment, monitors and things, were still mostly stacked in crates against the wall. Someone had had the presence of mind to tack up some posters detailing the symptoms of various ailments and maladies that one might experience in this planet's ecosystem while a charging station had been prepared ready for the medical droid that was due to be delivered to the base any day now.

Lifting off the now-crimson cloth he'd been using to stem the flow of blood from his hand, Han examined the injury. The bleeding had eased off now and he could see that the cut was a fairly deep one, stretching from close to his knuckle to the wrist. But, so long as the Rebels had some bacta at hand, Han suspected that he would avoid adding another scar to his collection.

The medcentre door slid open and the doctor that Han had been waiting for entered.

She looked to be aged somewhere around her mid-forties, an attractive woman with pronounced cheek bones and dark brown hair that had begun to grey slightly at the roots. She didn't look at Han at first, instead poring over a datapad that she read as she walked. Dressed in standard-issue Alliance garb, a dark green tunic and tan-coloured pants, Han noticed that she also wore an elaborate bracelet on her left wrist that shimmered when it caught the glare of the room's ceiling lights.

She muttered something in a language that Han was not familiar with and placed the datapad in a leather case that hung from her belt.

"So," she said, now facing Han. "You're the famous Captain Solo."

Han didn't like the sound of that. Given he was famous primarily for having something of a chequered past, someone knowing who he was upon first meeting him usually meant trouble. But here with the Rebellion, he was famous as the hero who'd saved the day back on Yavin and helped to blow up the Death Star so he'd had to put up with a line of strangers approaching him over the past few days to offer their thanks for what he'd done and shake his hand.

He couldn't decide which scenario annoyed him more.

"That's me," he said dully, hoping this woman would take the hint and not start fawning over him like so many of her colleagues had. "The hero."

The doctor narrowed her eyes, looking confused. "Hero?" she asked. "I don't know what you're talking about. Aren't you the famous Captain Solo who's pushed Draven to the brink of resigning his commission?"

For a moment, Han wondered whether she was being serious. But then he detected a hint of a smirk and realised that she was indeed mocking him. A Rebel that seemingly had a sense of humour? He thought he might just get on with this woman.

She held out her right hand to shake his in introduction and Han gestured in response to the bloody gash on his right hand that was prompted him to come to the medcentre in the first place. Grimacing apologetically, she extended her left hand instead and Han shook it.

"I'm Niram Mellorn," she said. "I'd say you can call me Niram rather than Doctor Mellorn but I'm going to assume that you'll just call me Doc like everyone else on this base seems to have decided to."

Han chuckled. Doc sounded about right; he'd never been one for formalities.

"The famous Han Solo," he introduced himself as in jest.

"Ah yes," said Niram, gently taking his injured hand between both of hers in order to inspect the cut. "Solo, the scourge of Alliance generals. And provoker of princesses too, if the stories I've heard are true."

So she'd heard about what had happened the night before. That didn't surprise Han, given that he and Leia had chosen the middle of a busy hangar as the venue for their latest argument. Having ironed out the tension caused by her telling the Alliance High Command about the price on his head, information that Draven had smugly ambushed him with in that debriefing he never should have agreed to partake in, Leia had managed to infuriate him again. Han had been caught completely off guard when an Alliance officer had approached him to enquire when he would be leaving on a supply run that he'd never agreed to do. And when Rieekan had informed him that Leia had taken it upon herself to add Han and the _Millennium Falcon_ to the roster of Alliance contractors, he'd erupted.

As he'd come to expect, Leia had given as good as she'd gotten in the ensuing row before storming off, leaving him alone as the centre of attention in the middle of a normally bustling hangar that had come to a complete standstill in order, as though their arguments were some kind of spectator sport

Han guessed that he and Leia were already something of a hot topic of gossip on the base and he couldn't the idea bothered him, although he knew Leia would hate to think that anyone was talking about her for reasons that were anything other than professional.

"I'll sell tickets next time," he smirked. "If my good name is going to be tarnished by you Alliance gossips then I might as well make some money from it."

"I can assure you that gossip doesn't interest me," she replied in a mock-serious tone, prodding gently at the edges of the cut and causing him to wince slightly in discomfort. "I've known that girl her whole life," she went on. "And I've never seen her so easily annoyed as she is by you."

Han considered her reply. If Niram had known Leia her whole life then surely that meant she was from Alderaan too. And if she was from Alderaan then-

"I know what you're thinking," she said, interrupting his chain of thought. "I can practically hear the gears turning inside your head."

Han wasn't going to patronise her by pretending not to know what she meant in some vain attempt to appear politely oblivious. He couldn't begin to imagine what the Doc was going through right now, the agony she had to be in, but it seemed that she was following the lead of Leia and Rieekan and remaining stoically professional, simply getting on with things. He didn't know how they were managing to do that and didn't want to impede those efforts.

But he nonetheless had to acknowledge what had happened.

"I'm sorry," he murmured quietly.

Niram glanced up to meet his eyes briefly and Han detected a shadow of the despair she was trying to mask.

"I know," she sighed heavily. "Everyone is."

She moved over to a metal storage unit nearby and began rummaging through it. "Your cut is a nasty one but it's not _too_ deep. You should only need bacta on it for a few minutes to clean it out and begin the cell and tissue regeneration."

Han nodded his understanding. Niram had found what she was looking for and returned with a think wad of bandage that had been soaked in bacta. Cutting off a small square, she laid it gently over the top of Han's hand. Taking a seat in a metal chair next to the bunk, she seemed content to wait with him while the bacta began to take effect.

Not wanting to sit in an uncomfortable silence, and hoping to move any conversation on from allusions to the fate of Alderaan, he decided to try to assuage some of the curiosities he had about his stubborn royal sparring partner.

"So, you've known Leia her whole life, huh?"

Niram smirked and folded her arms. "I have. And don't think I'm going to tell you anything that you might use later on to embarrass her." She laughed at the way he pointed toward himself and affected a shocked and overly exaggerated innocent expression.

"Acting innocent won't work with me, Captain Solo, I've dealt with enough rogues like you over the years to know exactly what you're thinking."

Han chuckled. What was it about Alderaanian women that they all seemed to get a measure of him so quickly?

"Call me Han," he said. "Leia calls me Captain Solo when I've done something to annoy her and it drives me crazy."

"That's a habit of hers," smiled Niram. "It tells you when you've something wrong. For as long as I've known her she's called me Niram apart from when I've disagreed with her on something; then I'm Doctor Mellorn."

Han laughed. So the princess had been born with a stubborn streak then. Not that Han minded that more petulant side of her that he'd seen already in the brief time they'd known each other; on the contrary, he'd found it quite endearing.

"So come on, Doc," he said. "You've gotta give me something here, one embarrassing story at least. There has to be _one_ not-so-perfect thing that Her Worship has done that you can tell me about. Did she not curtsey correctly once?"

Niram's eyes widened at him as she laughed again. Then she scrutinised him for a brief moment, biting down on the corner of her lower lip as though deep in thought.

"If you really think that that might be the extent of the trouble that Leia got herself into when she was younger then you really don't know her as well as you already seem to think you do," the doctor finally replied.

Han pondered this. "You telling me that the perfect princess was some kind of teenage tearaway?"

"Oh yes," answered Niram. "She really is a wonderful young woman but believe me when I tell you that she truly was born to be a Rebel."

 _Can't argue with_ , Han thought, unable to suppress a smile.

"You've been with the Rebellion a while then?" he asked.

Niram nodded.

"I studied medicine at the University of Aldera and joined the palace staff as soon as I graduated. Bail, Leia's father, assigned me to be her physician when she was a baby and I never really left that role. I came to love Leia like she was my own, all of us that spent any real time with her did."

"So how did you end up in the Alliance?"

"Bail was one of its founders," replied Niram. "He first spoke to me about it around ten years ago now. General Rieekan was a classmate and close friend of mine at university and went on to become the Organa's head of security; he was recruited around the same time. I used to carry out assignments alongside my duties to Leia. Bail would send me to planets that were suffering under the Empire, that needed proper medical knowledge and care. If you'd seen the things that I did on those assignments-"

She broke off and blinked rapidly, visibly in danger of losing her composure. Han didn't say anything, simply waited until she was ready to continue.

"Let's just say that there really wasn't any choice left in the matter once I'd seen for myself exactly what the Empire is capable of, how depraved it is."

Han knew how true that was from his own personal experiences, though he was in no mood to go into any of that now. Taking a stand against that depravity had cost him his military career and earned him the valuable services and, more importantly, friendship of his co-pilot and partner; the decisions he'd made then, the actions he'd taken, were one of the few things about his life that he could say he was truly proud of.

"I was on assignment offworld when...when it happened," said Niram in a quieter voice. "There'd been a battle over Scarif, the one where we got the plans to that battle station...Bail asked me to go to Yavin to treat the injured that were brought back. I was on my way back to Alderaan when-"

"I know," interrupted Han, not wanting her to have to verbalise what had happened to her homeworld. He allowed her to gather herself, sorry that their initial good-humoured banter had given way to a topic that he didn't intend for Niram to have to revisit when she was clearly trying so valiantly not to crumble under the weight of it all.

For a brief time there was awkward silence. Niram kept her eyes on the ground while Han raised his to the ceiling, unsure of what to say. Normally he might try to crack a joke, maybe steer the conversation back to Leia and try to ease the tension. But he felt now that they'd strayed too far into sorrowful territory, that any willingness that Niram had had to play along with his harmless teasing of the princess was gone.

"Let's take a look at that cut," she finally said, rising from her feet and removing the bacta-covered bandage. Looking for himself, Han saw that the bacta was already working well.

"I'll put some antiseptic lotion on this to be on the safe side and wrap it; we're still trying to work out this ecosystem and as much as we're sure it's safe for us, so we don't know if there's anything in the air that might aggravate an open cut. Avoid using it as best you can for the rest of the day and it should heal completely by the morning."

Han nodded, remaining silent as she gently spread the lotion over the cut and then bound it tightly with a fresh bandage. As she worked, Han took the opportunity to inspect her bracelet more closely. It was beautifully designed; clusters of white diamonds and green emeralds were arranged in the shape of small flowers, winding around a spiralling white gold band. It had to have cost a fortune.

"It was a gift from my husband," Niram murmured having obviously noticed what he'd been looking at. "He had it designed for our anniversary. The diamonds and emeralds are all mined from where I was born, Crevasse City."

"It's lovely," replied Han gruffly. He refrained from asking anything more, even if it was probably the polite thing to do; he could sense somehow from Niram's tone that her husband had been lost with Alderaan and so didn't want to pry any further.

Niram, however, was undeterred by his reticence.

"He was a geology professor at the University of Aldera," she continued. "So, as you can probably imagine, other people were not exactly in a rush to talk to him at parties."

Han laughed in spite of how uncomfortable he'd begun to feel and it seemed to fortify Niram, compel her to push on.

"I first introduced him to Leia when she was about six years old," she said, sealing the wrapping around his hand with tape and checking it held together securely. "It was at some function for a visiting dignitary, very boring. But the two of them, Leia and my husband, seemed to get on well; she was very polite, as usual, and listened to him explain all about his job and what he taught at the university."

"Anyway, the next day she came to see me in my office at the palace. She was very serious, wanted to express her sympathies that I'd married someone who was so boring. And she was kind enough to let me know that if I was ever in need of more entertaining conversation then she was always available."

The story had the intended effect of lifting the mood. They both laughed and Han felt immeasurably relieved at seeing the sadness in her eyes begin to dissipate.

"But they did end up becoming friends in the end," Niram said fondly. "Leia has always been quite the character."

Han might have only known Leia for a fraction of the time that Niram had but he'd quickly come to that conclusion himself upon meeting her. And he suddenly felt inexplicably grateful that Leia had people like this doctor on base with her. As closely as she'd attached herself to himself, Luke and Chewie, seeming to draw comfort from their shared experiences, they couldn't really understand and fully emphasise with everything she felt about Alderaan.

Niram and Rieekan could. And, given how strongly both felt about Leia, perhaps the princess' presence here would be a comfort to them in return.

"I hear you aren't going be with us long?"

"Huh?" It took a moment for what she'd said to register with Han; he'd become preoccupied with his thoughts about Leia's emotional wellbeing.

"Rieekan tells me that you're only going to be with the Rebellion temporarily and then you'll be moving on," Niram explained. "And, from what I've heard of your... _discussion_ with Leia in the hangar last night," she continued delicately, "you were very adamant to her that you are leaving."

Han frowned. "Thought you said that gossip doesn't interest you," he replied.

"It doesn't," replied Niram, apparently satisfied that she'd done a good enough job in dressing Han's injury. "And I didn't hear about it through the Alliance gossip mill; Leia told me everything."

Now Han's interest was piqued.

"Her Worship has been talking about me, huh?"

Niram regarded him sceptically. "Don't get any ideas," she warned him. "She was angry enough that she needed an outlet; it was either talk to me about it or punch you in the face."

Han chuckled. He felt the need to explain himself.

"You know, I'm only kidding around with her," he said earnestly. "I like her, really. But she's always so wound up about everything, putting pressure on herself to be there for everyone else, that sometimes she needs to just let go a little."

Niram nodded. "I understand that," she said. "And I appreciate that you've taken it upon yourself to help her; I just question some of your methods."

They both laughed again and Han knew that she really did understand where he was coming from with Leia, why he sometimes antagonised her as he did. And he appreciated that, the same way that he appreciated how Rieekan had so quickly recognised that there was no real malice in his attempts to provoke Leia into the little squabbles that had quickly become the norm in their friendship. Although, it was still strange to admit to himself that he regarded Leia as a friend; it was hard to believe that they had only known each for a matter of days given everything that had happened in that time.

He liked this doctor. Come to think of it, he was starting to like a few of these Rebels.

Damn. That wasn't good.

"Looks like a job well done, even if I say so myself," smiled Niram, indicating that she'd finished tending to his injury. "Like I said, keep out of trouble between now and tomorrow morning and the skin on that hand will look as good as new."

"Thanks Doc." He stood up from the bunk. "You do good work," he said good-humouredly, casting a tauntingly critical eye on the expert job she'd done.

Niram began clearing up, throwing the used bandages in the trash receptacle and replacing the unused supplies she'd taken from the storage unit.

Han supposed that she was expecting he would leave but there was one more thing he needed to say to her.

"You know," he began, careful to choose the right words. "It can't help to keep everything bottled up. I know things have to be tough; hell, I can't even begin to imagine how tough everything must be for you right now. But there are people here who know what you're going through and maybe talking things through with them will help them as much as it might help you."

He hoped he hadn't crossed a line and that she knew what he was trying to say. The truth was that he wasn't going to be around the Alliance much longer and, when the time came for him to leave, he'd like to go knowing that Leia would be okay. Eventually, once the shock wore off, she'd be comfortable with talking about Alderaan again; he knew that. And when that time came, given that he wouldn't be around, he wanted someone else to be there who wouldn't only listen to her but also be able to really understand everything she'd so unfairly had to go through.

Someone like the Doc.

Niram didn't respond immediately. But there was something about the way she looked at him that he found reassuring and a little disconcerting, like maybe she was trying to work him out a little more having gotten a better understanding of the type of guy he was.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said softly. "I enjoyed talking to you today Han...it helped."

He smiled in response. "I'm glad," he replied simply.

He'd been halfway out the door when Niram called out to stop him.

"I know I'm going to regret this and you didn't hear this from me," she began, somewhat wearily and with some hesitance. "But next time you see Leia...ask her about the time she hid the representative from Seswenna's tobacco and very nearly caused a serious diplomatic incident."

Han grinned, very much looking forward to crossing paths with the princess again; this was one story he had to hear.


End file.
